Our   Father's   Care.M# 


A     BALLAD 


BY   MKS.    SEWELL, 


Of  r  Mi 


LDS,"   M  llOMSLY  BALLADS," 
100K,"  &.0, 


jfcwm  i&e  §«i 


;J)  lonlJoa  EMion. 


a  ]  I  N  D ,      v 

PRtSBVTERUi:   ;  arfMlTTEE.OF    PJ3LICATI0N, 

1S64. 


"  Oixx*   ITatlt.ei'*'®    Care." 


A.    BALLAD, 


BY   MKS.    SEWELL, 

Author  of  "Mother's  Last  Words,"  "Homely  ballads," 
"Tee  Children  of  Scmmererook,"  &.c. 


jfrom  tijt  totnts-stititt^  i,onfcait  SEMtCon:. 


RICHMOND,     VA: 

PRESBYTERIAN  COMMITTEE  OF    PUBLICATION. 

1864. 


OUR  FATHER'S  CAEE 


No.    70.  - 


"TVTS  five  by  the  clock  cm  a  wintry  morn, 

-*•      And  dark  in  the  east  lies  the  lingering  dawn  ; 
The  populous  city  is  slumbering  still, — 
And  the  silent  whirl  and  the  tramp  of  the  mill ; 
The  shuddering,  wrestling,  struggle  of  life, 
The  pitiless  crush,  and  the  perilous  strife, 
Have  paused  for  a  moment — with  daylight,  the  strain 
Of  London's  great  city,  will  go  on  again. 

The  old  parish  clock  had  just  finished  its  stroke, 
When  suddenly  starting,  poor  Nelly*  awoke : 
So  young  and  so  little,  so  slender  and  spare, 
Wh*.t  work  can  she  do  in  this  city  of  care ! 
She  wakes  up  to  poverty,  hardship,  and  pain, — 
Poor  child!  Beetle  down  there,  and  slumber  again. 
But  no — she  is  rising — there  wants  nothing  more, 
To  rouse  her  from  that  humble  bed  on  the  floor  : 
She  catches  tight  hold  of  a  rickety  chair, 
And  stands  for  a  moment  unconsciously  there  ; 
And  then,  as  her  little  limbs  shiver  and  shake, 
The  light  of  her  spirit  begins  to  awake. 

The  gas  lamp  that  burns  in  the  alley  below, 
Just  gives  light  enough  in  the  chamber  to  show 
Her  poor  mother  quietly  laid  on  her  bed, — 
So  quiet,  that  Nelly  thinks— Is  mother  dead  ? 
And  creeps  near  to  listen — "  Oh  !  no,  she's  at  rest, 
And  there's  pretty  baby,  asleep  on  her  breast ; 
And  I  will  not  awake  her— poor  mother  !  Oh  !  no — 

*  Tb.e  age,  occupation,  and  early  maturity  of  little  Nelly,  are  sketched 
tram  U&. 


T72ZZZ 


4  OZR     FATHER?     CARJ 

She  says,  I  am  now  all  her  comfort  below ; 
And  we  should  soon  perish  of  hunger,  she  Mttd 
If  I  was  not  aLle  to  work  for  the  bread. 
The  Hospital  Doctor  w»s  sure  yesterday, 
That  father  would  still  have  a  long  while  to  stay, 
And  then,  must  not  take  to  ha  work  us  before  *r 
And  poor  father  said,  he  should  do  it  no  more, 
And  then  he  cried  sadly,  and  '  Nelly,'  said  he, 
'You'll  all  be  starved,  darling,  as  sure  as  can  be/ 
Says  I,   'Father,  eheei  up,  a   d  >\-  n't  be  afraid, 
For  you  may  depend  on  your  own  little  maid;' 
So  nuw,  I'll  be  going  to  Farringdon  Street, 
That  we  may  have  iire,  and  something  to  eat." 

She  takes  up  her  clothes,  that  had  Iain  on  the  bed*,. 
No  blanket  had  Nelly,  they  sewed  her  instead ; 
She  puts  theai  as  decently  on  as  she  may, 
But  many  a  fastening  had  broken  away  ; 
And  many  a  rent,  often  mended  with  pain, 
Through  age  and  long  service,  had  worn  out  again  ; 
'Twere  doubtful  if  one  scanty  garment  could  claim. 
In  form  or  in  fashion,  the  right  to  a  name. 
To  fasten  them  close,  they  were  folded  and  pinned, 
To  keep  them  from  blowing  about  in  the  wind ; 
And  over  the  whole  was  a  :vd  woollen  shawl, 
And  mother's  black  bonnet  surmounted  it  all. 

The  poor  little  figure  looked  elfish  and  wild, 
With  nought  but  the  size,  that  bespoke  it  a  child  ; 
And  quaint  were  her  speeches,  and  womanly  wise, 

While  courage  and  cheerfulness  lit  up  her  eyes.. 

"Ah!  Nelly,  my  blessing,"--  the  sick  woman  said, 
"  And  are  you  now  ready,  my  good  little  maid? 
The  ha'pence  lie  there r  at  the  end  of  die  shelf, 
And  mind,  Jove,  don't  over-wteary  yonfself; 
But  get  to  the  market  before  it  is  late, 
And  don't  let  the  loiterers  tempt  you  to  wait. 
Use  plenty  of  water  to  wash  the  cress  sweet, 
And  tic  all  the  bunches  up,  pretty  and  neat  ; 


THE     MOTHER  S     ADVICE  5 

And  speak  the  truth,  Nelly,  whatever  you  do, 
And  don't  touch  a  tiling,  not  Belonging  to  you ; 
Kemember  that  God  keeps  you  always  in  sight, 
And  sees  through  the  dark,  just  as  well  as  the  light. 
And  come  back  as  soon  as  you  can  in  the  day, 
'Tis  lonely  up  here,  child,  when  you  are  away; 
And  I  shall  b<rv  wid  of  a  hot  cup  of  tea, 
And  nice  little  lire,  for  baby  and  me — 
So  run  off  my  blessing   and  don't  be  afraid, 
For  God  will  take  care  of  my  good  little  maid." 

"  Good-bye.11  said  the  child,    "  I  shall  run  all  the  way, 
And  buy  the  first  cress  in  the  market  to-day." 

She  takes  the  cress-bask <  i  v^.  under  her  arm, 
No  lodger  awakens    or  feel  \  an  alarm  ; 
Or  if  they  should  noticq  a  step  on  the  stair. 
Or  cold  creeping  in  from  lie'  chill  morning  air, 
'Tis  but  the  poor  water-cre  s  girl,  they  will  say, 
Who  goes  to  the  market  betore  break  of  day; 
And  turn  round  to  sleep  with  a  sigh,  of  regret, 
Not  selfish  or  careless,  but  glad  to  forget. 

And  so  she  goes  forth  in  the  dark  and  the  cold, 

A  brave  little  girl  of  but  eight  years  old. 

Through  street  and  through  alley,  both  narrow  and  w'dc, 

Without  a  companion,  a  light,  or  a  guide, 

With  shivering  limbs,  and  her  pattering  feet, 

She's  running  along  in  the  desolate  street. 

Oh  !  bitterly  cold  did  the  piercing  wind  blow, 

And  bore  on  its  wild  wing  the  sleet  and  the  snow, 

Round  eddying  corners  and  shadowy  ways, 

Dim  lit  by  the  distant  lamp's  flickering  blaze. 

No  smiling  face  looked  from  those  windows  so  high, 

To  cheer  the  brave  child — who  was  hurrying  by  ; 

The  windows  were  curtained. — the  shadows  were  deep, 

For  still  the  great  city  was  buried  in  sleep. 

But  rapidly  onward,  her  little  feet  go, 

Through  street  and  through  alley,  by  market  and  row; 

She  knows  all  the  turns,  and  the  readiest  beat. 


J7Z3.X0L 


6  OLR    FATHER  1    6AR£. 

That  brings  her  the  soonest  to  Farringdon  Street. 

She's  past  the  Exchange,   and  the  Bank,    and  Cheapside, 

To  where  St.  Paul's  rises  in  towering  pride  ; 

Nor  heeds  she  the  deep  frowning  shadow  t  1 . a t  falls, 

Nor  whispering  echoes  thai  talk  by  St.  Paul's; 

She's  used  to  the  echo,  she's  used  to  the  sh#de, 

There's  nothing  in  them  to  make  Nelly     * 

But  at  the  great  prison,  she  quickens  her  pace, 

She  once  saw  a  gibbet  set  up  in  that. place  : 

She  knows  a  bad  boy  in  confinement  there  now. 

Who  once  lived  beside  them  in   W.iitcchapel  Row. 

She  saw  him  herself  on  the  very  game  day, 

When  two  strong  policemen  had  dragged  him  away; 

She  saw  how  he  struggled,  how  white  hii  face  grew, 

When  told  of  the  place  they  were  taking  him  to; 

She  wonders  whenever  he'll  get  out  again, 

And  if  he  is  fettered,  and  cries  with  the  pain; 

She  listens  a  moment — there  U  not  a  sound, 

Except  the  wild  wind,  that  w  liatling  round, — ■ 

Js  that  Billy  screaming  ?     What  sounded  to  shrill? — 

She's  off  like  a  dart  to  the  foot  of  the  1J  ill. 

None  to  speak  to  poor  Nelly,,  and  she  speaks  to  none, 
Through  ail  the  great  City,  she's  passing  alone. 
The  morning  patrol,  on  his  earliest  beat, 
Sees  fluttering  garments  and  hurrying  feet ; 
And  lets  her  pass  by,  with  a  half- dreamy  eys, 
Nor  asks  her  a  question,  nor  seeks  a  r^ply. 

And  what  are  the  thoughts  that  are  filling  her  mindy 

As  street  after  street  she  is  leaving  behind  V 

Thinks  she  of  a  dolly,  a  book,  or  a  bail  ?■  - 

She  never  had  played  with  a  dolly  at  all : 

Thinks  she  of  a  game,  when  the  school  hours  are  done — 

Of  school-fellows  romping,  and  laughing,  and  fun  ? 

She  never  had  been  in  a  school-room  to  learn  : 

Poor  Nelly  has  long  had  a  living  to  earn — 

She's  thinking  perhaps  'tis  a  hardship  for  her 

To  get  up  so  early,  and  travel  so  far ; 

Whilst  other  girls  always  have  plenty  of  food. 


And  she  has  not  anything,  pretty  or  good  ?- — 
No — trrfles  like  these  arc  not  filling  her  mind, 
As  street  after  street  she  is  leaving  behind — 
She's  thinking  about  the  poor  baby  that's  come. 
And  mother  so  weak,  and  so  helpless  at  home  ; 
And  says  with  a  shake  of  her  rough  little  head, — 
"  But  I  am  the  woman  that  works  for  their  bread." 

Good,  brave  little  girl,  with  your  old  tattered  shoe, 

And  toes  on  the  cold  pavement,  frozen  and  blue; 
Despite  your  poor  dress,  and  that  careful  young  faeft, 

You're  worthy  to  rank  with  the  noblest  race  ! 

The  Farringdon  market  is  open  at  five, 
To  Bell  to  a  hovering,  shivering  hive 
Of  destitute  children  and  indigent  poor, 

The  fresh  water-cresses,  they  cry  at  the  door. 

The  bright  flaring  lamp  in  the  cress  market  shows, 

Their  thin  eager  faces,  and  old  tattered  clothes. 

Ah  !  look  at  them  now.  as  they  handle  the  green, 

Was  'ere  such  a  pitiful  company  e 

With  only  one  thought. — how  to  earn  for  thu  day, 

bhiongh  to  keep  cold  and  starvation  away. 

But  see — pushing  through  the  confusion  and  din, 

That  mite  of  a  child  is  now  hurrying  in: 

She  elbows  her  way  on  to  look  at  the  c.r^>r,, 

And  chooses  her  lot,  be  it  many  or  less. 

She  stops  not  to  question  what  others  may  do, 

]f  they  purchase  many,  or  only  a  few. 

Rhe  carefully  reckons  her  number  of  pence, 

And  thai  is  the  measure  fur  Nelly's  expeneo. 

There's  none  to  advise  her,  there's  no  one  to  feel, 

'Tis  each  for  himself,  and  'tis  all  for  a  meal. 

She  pays  for  her  bundle,  and  hurries  along, 

And  pushes  her  way  through  the  jostling  throng  ; 

Then  squats  on  her  heels  in  the  slippery  street, 

To  pick  the  cress  over,  and  tie  it  up  neat. 

Then  off  to  the  pump  she  courageously  goes, 

Ah,  me!  for  those  poor  little  half-frozen  toes; 

The  cold  water  stream*  6n  her  fingers  ?.nd  feet> 


8  OUR  :;K. 

An<l  splashes  below,  on  the  the  street — 

A  sob  and  a  shudder,  tbat  nobody  beard, 

A  quiver  of  anguish,  but  never  a  word. 

She  dashes  away  a  poor  trickling  tear, 

"  'Tis  childish  to  cry,  although  nobody's  near; 

And  now  they  are  pretty,  and  all  of  them  look 

but  this  monienl  they  came  from  the  brook." 

Sne  slings  on  the  basket,  the  washing  is  done, 

She  stamps  on  the  pavement,  to  make  the  blood  run, 
Then  raises  her  voice  in  the  dim  London  street, 
So  plaintively  trilling,  so  simple  and  sweet, 
That  angels  might  listen,  and  cherubim  we 
Whilst  half  the  great  city  lies  buried  in  sleep. 
Repeating, — repeating  the  very  same  song. 
"  Fresh  water-cres-e-s !  sweet  w'ater-cress-e-s ! 
Oh!  pray  come  and  buy  my  sweet  water-cress-e-s!" 
Oh  !  ye,  who  have  plenty,  look  oat  and  behold, 
This  brave  little  girl  of  but  eight  years  old  ! 

And  Nelly's  poor  mother  is  sick  and  alone, 
No  neighbor  to  visit  her ;  no,  she  had  none. 
She  could  not  rise  up  from  her  comfortless  bed, 
But  this  was  the  prayer  she  constantly  said, 
"Lord,  give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread ! 

Ci  W%  have  not  a  fricnei  ia  the  warldl  but  Tke*, 
.And  we  are  as  poor,  as  the  poor  can  be, 
Oh  !  Father  in  heaven,  take  pity  on  me! 

Cl  I  have  not  a  warrant,  or  merit,  or  claim, 
Except  that  I  come  in  my  Saviour's  name, 
And  I  have  Thy  promise  to  hear  the  same. 

"I  bring  unto  Thee  my  trouble  and  care, 
A  burden  too  heavy  for  me  t<s  bear; 
I  bring  it  to  Thee,  and  do  not  despair. 

"Look  down  in  Thy  mercy,  and  feed  us  to-day, 
Thou  knowest  our  need,  and  Thou  knowest  the  way; 
Thou  knowest  that  I  can  do  nothing  but  pray. 


IRESn     WATER-CRESSES. 

••  Oh  !  give  to  my  poor  little  Nelly  success, 
That  she  may  find  custom  to-day  for  her  cress; 
I  do  not  ask  more,  and  I  cannot  ask  less. 

"  And  guard  my  poor  lamb  in  these  wilderness  ways. 
And  bring  her  to  Christ  in  her  earliest  days; 
For  ever,  my  Father,  to  live  to  Thy  praise. 

"  Thy  hand  has  supported  me  many  a  year; 

Through  sorrow  and  trouble,  through  danger  and  fear, 

I've  known  that  my  Heavenly  Father  was  near. 

"I've  known  my  dear  Saviour  was  pleading  for  me, 
A  poor  worthless  sinner  accepted  by  Thee  ; 
Accepted  in  Him  who  was  nailed  to  the  tree. 

"  Now  Father,  I  wait  for  Thy  mercy  to  move  ; 
I  watch  for  the  sign  of  Thy  pitying  love, 
And  all  my  dependance  is  settled  above." 

And  thus  she  prayed  on  in  her  "desolate  home, 
And  counted  the  hours  till  Nelly  should  come. 

A  gentleman  sat  in  his  low  window  seat, 
And  often  looked  out  in  the  dim,  foggy  street, 
And  then  looked  within  at  his  bright  blazing  tiro, 
And  round  on  his  room,  and  its  costly  attire; 
At  well-cvsshioned  sofa,  and  soft  easy  chair, 
At  beautiful  pictures,  and  ornaments  fair; 
And  then  his  eye  fell  on  his  plentiful  board, 
With  many  a  luxury  carefully  stored  ; 
Then  turned  to  the  Bible  khat  lay  on  his  knee— 
'  And  these  precious  promises  too  are  for  me ; 
I  rest  in  the  love  of  my  Saviour  and  Friend, 
Which  time  will  not  alter,  and  death  cannot  end. 
Oh  !  what  can  I  render,  my  Father,   to  Thee, 
For  all  Thy  unmerited  mercies  to  me?" 

The  gentteman  thought  of  his  silver  and  gold, 
And  then  of  the  destitute,  hungry  and  cold  ; 
He  thought  of  the  friendless  surrounded  by 


10  our    father's    care. 

Temptation  without,  and  temptation  within; 
And  then  of  the  aged,  deprived  of  their  stay, 
Alone  and  neglected,  to  wear  life  awaj  ; 

Of  widows  and  orphans,  uupitied,  unfed, 

In  sin,  or  in  suffering  earning  their  bread. 

He  thought  of  the  thousands  whom  poverty's  frown, 

With  heart-aching  sorrow  was  lowering  down. 

He  thought,  till  the  color  rushed  into  his  face, 

And  he  walked  to  and  fro  with  a  resolute  pace. 

"  Poor  creatures  !"  he  murmured,    "  and  shall  I  sit  here, 

And  waste  on  myself  all  this  bountiful  cheer  ? 

Was  this,  my  dear  Saviour,  Thy  love  unto  me? 

And  this  the  return  that  I  make  unto  Thee? 

Shall  Thy  needy  children,  in  sorrow  and  pain, 

Be  looking  for  succor,  and  looking  in  vain?" 

He  walked  once  again  to  the  low  window  seat, 

And  earnestly  gazed  in  the  dull,  foggy  street; 

When  sweetly  and  clearly  there  fell  on  his  ear, 

The  cry  of  a  water-cress  girl,  drawing  near. 

1 '  Fresh  water-cress-e-s  !  sVeet  water-cress-c-s  ! 

Four  bunches  a  penny,  sweet  water-cress-e-s  !  " 

How  often  he'd  carelessly  noticed  that  cry 

Draw  near  to  his  dwelling,,  and  then  pass  it  by ! 

But  now,  as  he  listened,  the  words  seemed  to  bear 

A  message  for  him  as  they  rose  on  the  air. 

And  still  little  Nelly  kept  singing  her  song, 

And  thought,  to  herself,  as  she  trotted  along— 

"  They're  nearly  all  sold,  I  have  only  a  few, 

And  I  shall  sell  them  in  a  minute  or  two." 

Then  smiling,  she  nodded  her  little  rough  head — 

"  If  folks  only  work,  they'll  be  sure  to  have  bread, 

Because  the  kind  Father  who  lives  in  the  skies. 

Can  see  us  down  here,  with  His  wonderful  eyes  ; 

And  He  can  see  father,  and  mother,  and  me, 

And  knows  all  our  troubles  as  sure  as  can  be  ; 

And  Be  has  made  victuals  for  every  one, 

And  we  must  go  tell  Him  if  we  have  got  none. 

1  told  Him  that  mother  was  hungry  and  sick, 

And  beggod  He  would  send  me  some  customers  quick, 


TRfi     «00D      #KN  TUBMAN.  II 

And  then  in  a  minute  they  came  for  mj  cress, 

All  wanted  a  pen'orth,  and  none  wanted  less; 

And  soon  I'll  be  having  some  buyers  for  these — ■ 

Four  bunches  a  penny,  sweet  water-cress-e-s  !  " 

Again  up  on  high  she  carolled  her  cry, 

"  Come,  buy  my  sweet  cresses,  my  sweet  cresses  buy  Vf 

The  gentleman  stood  by  the  low  window  seat, 

And  saw  the  poor  child  in  the  dull,  foggy,  street : 

"Oh!  Saviour,''  he  said,    "  and  this  infant  may  be 

A  lamb  of  the  fold,  who  is  looking  to  Thee  ;  " 

And  hastily  tapped  with  his  hand  on  the  pane, 

11  All  right,"  thought  the  child,  as  she  nodded  her  head, 

"  Sure  1  am  the  woman  that  earns  mother's  bread." 

The  gentleman  came  down  himself  to  the  door. 

A  handful  of  bread  from  his  table  he  bore. 

He  looked  at  the  poor  little  shivering  thing, 

And  marvelled  that  she  had  the  courage  to  sing. 

' '  Here's  bread,  my  poor  child,  for  your  breakfast,"  he  said; 

"And  will  you,  kind  Sir,  take  some  cresses  instead  ?  T} 

"I'll  buy  your  nice  cress  for  my  breakfast,"  said  he, 

11  But  perished  with  cold  I  am  sure  you  must  be." 

11  Yes,  Sir,"  replied  Nelly,  "  I'm  cold,  it  is  true, 

But  then  I  have  plenty  of  work  to  do, 

So  I  never  trouble  to  think  of  the  cold, 

For  I  am  just  turned  of  my  eight  years  old  ; 

My  father  is  ill  in  the  hospital,  Sir, 

My  mother's  in  bed,  and  too  weakly  to  stir." 

Then  lifting  her  basket  she  cheerily  said — 

"  So  I  am  the  woman  that  works  for  the  bread." 

The  gentleman  told  her  to  call  the  next  day. 

And  gave  her  a  sixpence  on  going  away. 

Then  did  little  Nelly's  heart  sing  with  delight, 
And  all  things  about  her  seemed  dancing  in  light ; 
The  discords  of  London  were  turned  into  song, 
All  friendly  to  her  as  she  trotted  along  ; 
And  tuneful  the  clamor  that  rose  in  Cheapside, 
As  nightingale' i  song  in  the  sweet  eventide. 


12  OtJft   FATHER'S    CARE. 

The  scents  were  as  pleasant,  for  aught  Nelly  knew, 
As  banks  of  blue  violets  .sprinkled  with  dew ; 
Her  blithe  little  heart  had  the  secret  within, 
That  perfumed  the  odours,  and  softened  the  din. 
With  that  silver  sixpence  tight  grasped  in  her  hand. 
What  luxury  was  it  she  could  not  command  ! 
8he  looked  in  the  shops  with  an  undaunted  eye, 
Considering,  thoughtfully  what  she  could  buy. 
"  What  would  mother  like?"  she  kept  saying  aloud, 
Unnoticed,  unheard,  by  the  hurrying  crowd. 
She  saw  in  the  windows  line  joints  of  cooked  meat, 
But  thought,  perhaps,  that  was  too  much  of  a  treat ; 
The  coffee  smelt  pleasant,  and  eggs  white  as  snow, 
With  rolls  and  fresh  butter  were  placed  in  a  row ; 
But  Nelly  turned  from  them,  and  went  on  her  way. 
"I  think  mother  wouldn't  buy  these  things  to-day, 
I  know  she  likes  best  a  good  cup  of  strong  tea, 
She'll  have  it  this  morning,  as  sure  as  can  be ; 
I'll  buy  her  some  tea,  some  butter  and  coals, 
Here's  plenty  of  bread,  and  two  beautiful  rolls. 
I'm  sure  she  was  right  not  to  murmur  and  grieve; 
She  said,   '  Do  your  best,  and  we'll  pray  and  believe,' 
I  will  always  pray,  and  believe  for  the  rest, 
And  Grod  knows  I'm  trying  to  do  for  the  best" 

And  now  let  us  look  in  that  poor  upper  room, 

And  say,  shall  we  find  only  sickness  and  gloom  ? 

A  small  fire  is  burning,  the  water  is  hot, 

The  tea  is  put  into  the  little  teapot, 

And  all  things  are  carefully  set  in  their  place, 

While  tears  trickle  down  on  the  poor  mother's  face, 

As  Nelly  tells  over,  again  and  again, 

How  loud  the  kind  gentleman  tapped  on  the  pane. 

' '  Ah !  Nelly,  my  blessing — the  lions  may  roar, 

And  suffer  from  hunger ;  but  still  evermore 

That  word  shall  stand  firm  of  our  Saviour  who  said, 

Who  trust  in  His  promise  shall  surely  be  fed  ; 

We're  like  the  poor  spafrows  that  chirp  in  the  caves, 

Not  one  is  forgotten,  but  some  way  receives 

A  crumb,  or  a  grain,  that  was  scattered  or  sown 


t 


Vi    ITArP'T   MtfRNTNG.  IS 

l?or  those  who  have  no  storehouse,  cr  barn  gF  their  own. 

£  hear  them  a-cbirpicg  before  it  is  day, 

And  think  to  myself,  you  shall  teach  me  to  pray, 

My  cupboard  is  empty,  and  starved  must  I  be, 

^Unless  <3-e£  should  scatter  seme  crumbs  down  for  rac.^1 

*£ '  Well,  mother,  the  sparrows  did  (teach  you  to  pray, 

For  we  have  a  beautiful  breakfast  to-day, 

>13o  we  won't  be  sorry  and  fret  fer  the  rest,  i 

You'll  ask  God  te  help  us,  and  I'll  do  my  best.*' 


And  so  the  days  passed  without  Few  cr  despair, 

But  hard  days  cf  'kber  and  patier.ee  they  were  ; 

'The  rain  beat  en  Nelly,  the  rose  ere  the  light, 

<Her  limbs  were  oft  weary,  her  small  face  was  white", 

But  like  a  brave  woman,  Bbe  kept  to  kef  post, 

•And  when  it  blew  hardest  ske  struggled  the  most. 

Ah  !  yes,  the*;-  had  troubles  ar.d  puzzles  enow, 

'[The  candle  burnt  out,  and  the  fire  burnt  low,  -f| 

And  things  would  gel  dirty,  as  every  0Re  knows, 

And  Nelly  was  little  to  wash  out  the  clethes"; 

And  rent-day  would  eeme,  prd  the  rent  must  be  paicl, 

And  they  had  no  help  but  the  water-cress  trade. 

And  people  wowld  sometimes  get  into  debt, 

'J'hey  d  pay  on  the  morrow,  and  then  they'd  forget. 

And  so  they  had  r overly,  hardship,  and  pain, 

Not  two  or  three  times,  but  again  and  again. 

Yet  Nelly's  good  mother  still  held  up  her  head, 

*T\vas  the  will  cf  her  Heave my  Father,  she  said ; 

And  things  would  grew  better,  safe  under  His  care, 

If  not — He  would  give  her  the  patience  to  bear. 

•She'd  never  mistrust  that  His  promise  stocd  fast, 

Tiiro'  rough  er  thre'  smooth,  it  would  come  right  at  last 

But  tidings  new  reached  her  of  sorrow  and  fear, 
?3ad  news  for:the  poor  lonely  mother  to  hear; 
Her  husband  was  rapidly  wasting  away, 
'The  doctor  had  said  he  might  die  any  day, 
And  Nelly  was  sent,  as  the  day's  work  could  spare, 
To  see  how  he  was*,  and  to  comfort  him  there- 
to carry  him  words  of  the  tenderest  love. 


14  our   father's    cake. 

And  beg  him  to  fix  his  dependence  above. 
One  morning  her  mother  said,    "Go,  Nelly,  deaf, 
1  think  by  my  feelings,  the  end  must  be  near, 
And  try  and  remember  the  words  we  have  read — 
The  ceautiful  things  that  our  Saviour  has  said  ; 
And  don't  let  him  fret  for  our  troubles,  dear  man! 
But  cheer  him,  my  blessing — as  well  as  you  can-.'* 

SECOND     TAUT. 

Then  Nelly  3et  off  to  the  great  house  alone, 

'Mongst  the  dying  and  sick,  as  she  often  had  done  ; 

And  through  the  long  ward,  as  tkc  little  girl  passed, 

Kind  looks  of  compassion  upon  her  were  cast. 

She  stood  by  the  bed — was  her  father  asleep  lm 

His  face,  was  so  white,  and  his  eyes  were  so  deep : 

She  touched  his  thin  hand  as  it  lay  on  the  sheet, 

And  then  with  her  little  voice  steady  and  sweet, 

Said,   "  Father!  dear  father!"  and   then   kissed  his  brow, 

"  Mother  wants  very  bad  to- know  how  you  are  now." 

He  opened  his  eyes  with  a  heavy-drawn  sigh  ; 

"  Ah  !  Nelly,  you've  come  to  see  poor  father  die — 

Sit  down  on  the  bed,  shild — sit  down  by  me  here, 

'Tis  hard  fork  t©  leave  you  without  any  fear ;  • 

You  must  be  starved,  darling — for  what  can  you  do*? 

Abe  family  can't  be  supported  by  you, 

Tnd  how  did  you  fare  yesterday  in  the  storm* 

With  nothing  to  eat,  and  no  fire  to  warm  t 

I  thought  of  yon  starving  there,  all  the  day  long, 

And  knew  you?  poor  mother  would  never  get  strong.** 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Nelly,  and  gat  on  the  bed  ; 
"  At  present  I've  always  earned  plenty  of  bread. 
Well — yesterday  morniug,  the  time  that  I  wake,. 
Our  window  was  rattling,  ready  to  break, 
And  rain  battered  on  it.  till  mother  did  say, 
'  You'd  better  not  go  to  the  market  to-day.' 
You  don't  suppose,  father,  I  listened  feo  that, 
"But  tied  my  old  handkerchief  eve*  my  hat, 
And  with  mother's  blessing,  \  go(  in  the  street: 
But  bard  work  it  was  then  to  keep  my  feet. 


- 


XANY    PITFtCULTIF.?.  15 

Sometimes  the  wind  drove  me,  I  could  not  stand  still, 
Sometimes  at  a  corner  I  turned  like  a  mill. 
My  clothes  clung  about  me,  soaked  through  with -die  rain, 
JSays  I,    '  Nelly  Hardy,  you  must  try  again  " 
vl  often  fell  down,  and  I  could  .not  go  fast; 
But  somehow  I  got  to  the  market  at  last  : 
And  there  the  sales-women  fell  pitying  me, 
And  said,    '  Nelly,  child,  what  an  object  you  be.P 
And  one  said/my  mother  wis    '  hard  and  unkind.' 
•Iconic,'   says  T,   'Missis,  t  y  own- mind; 

My  mother  is  ill,  and  can't  rise  from  her  bed, 
3  i  1  am  the  woman  that  works  for  the  bread.' 
Well,  then  she  gave  me  a  great  armful  of  cress, 
-She  said  in  her  conscience,  she  could  not  do  Lew. 
Twas  twice  as  much  father,  as  ever  I  get, 
And  that  came,  you  .see,  of  the  wind  and  the  wet. 
The  storm  kept  on  blowing,  the  rain  pelted  down, 
But  people  all  seemed  to  want  cress  in  the  town  ; 
They  looked  from  the  windows,  and  came  to  fcfee  dwor, 
I'd  never  such  luck  with  my  cresses  before. 
And  then  the  good  gentleman  tapped  on  the  pane. 
And  thai  wrv  day  gave  me  sixpence  again, 
ft  know  'twas  our  Father,  who  lives  in  the  sky, 
That  made  all  the  people  so  anxious  to  buy. 
"Then  just  as  1  came  to  the  end  of  Milk  Street, 
And  thinking  I'd  ca^y  dear  mother  a  treat. 
A  man  pushed  against  me,  and  fchen  he  turned  roimd, 
And  said.    '  My  poor  lassie,  you  look  almost  drowned; 
L'm  off  to. ray  breakfast,  if  you  come  vith'me 
My  missis  will  give  you  a  cup  of  goodoa, 
And  may-be,  she'll  iind  you  a  bit  of  dry  elothee, 
I   >r  old  pair  of  shoos  just  to  cover  your  toes  ; 
•I've  three  little  girls  not  much  bigger  than  you, 
.Amongst  them  they'll  find  up  a  trifle  er  two.' 
And  then  he  talked  kindly  as  we  walked  along, 
And  asked  to  what  sort  of  folks  I  \20uid  belong. 
*  My  good  little  kss,'  he  said,    '  can  that  be  true?' 
:Fcr  I  had  told  hinicibo^t  mother  and  you, 
And  how  mother  prayed  on  her  bed  as  she  lay, 
And  so  we  were  sure  of  some  food  every  day. 
v  \c  said  MM  was  right,  be  had  tried  that  himself. 


JJ  OTTB     FATHER  B      CaTIS: 

He  knew  'twas  the  way  to  k9ep  bnca<l  on  ^ie  shellf 
And  then  his  wife  dried  me,  and  gave  me  some  tea,. 
And  this  pretty  frock  and  these  shees,  father — see  ! 
And  put  in  my  oasSet  some  pieses  of  bread, 
And  slices  of  meat  for  my  Mother,  sfte  aaid  ; 
And  mother  did  Tike  it",  and  thought  'twas  so  good, 
And  she  said   '  ©ar  Father  had  seat  as  th«  food  >' 
And  I  thought,  and  mother  thought,  'twas  very  plain 
They  would  aot  have  pitied  me  but  for  the  rain ; 
And  s&e  said,*  fehafc  all  fchiags  wese  safe  iu  God's  hasu1 
Because  whea  He  promised,  He  gave  a  command  ; 
And  those  who  believe  Him,  and  trust  in  the  Lord,, 
3ind  e^en  &e  tempest  fulfilling  lids  word. 
She  said  the  old  lions  might  roar  for  their  prey, 
®r  youag  lions  hunt  through  tlie  forest  all  day, 
And  still  might  be  hungry  for  want  of   their  food,. 
But  God's  people  never  lacked  any  thing  good." 

Then  Nelly  ceased  talking,  and  stosd  an  tke  ioor,. 
Her  father  said, — "Belly,  dear,  tell  me  some  morer 
I/he  tiiings  that  you  talk  about  comfort  my  mind, 
And  make  me  more  willing  to  leave  you  behind." 

Then  Nelly  was  pleased,  she  had  come  taere  for  ftia&„ 
So  dowa  by  hes  fatjei:  she  willingly  sat, 
And  thus  she  began  without  any  adfc — 
il  Yes,  father,  I'M  tell  a  nice  story  to  you. 

There  was  a  gf^d  prophet,  a  long  time  agG> 

(The  story  is  all  in  the  Bible,  you  know, 

We  often  have  read  it  since  you  hiive  been  here-.. 

At  least,  mother  reads,  and  I  sit  hy  to  hear.) 

There  was  a  good  prophet,  a  long  time  ago,. 

Who  lived  amongst  very  bad  people  you  know. 

Who  did  not  love  God,  though  He  Avas  very  good,.     . 

But  made  foolish  gods  out  of  pieces  of  wood  ;. 

And  so  ts-shastise  them,  a  ad  fcrrag  fcnem  to  think,. 

The  wells  all  dried  up,  and  they  had  nothing  to  drink  g 

The  rain  never  fell  down  to  moisten  the  ground, 

Not  even  a  small  drop  of  dew  could  be  found ; 

A!id  so  the  plants  withered,  the  corn  would  not  gro^ 


THE   STORY   OF    ELIJAH.  17 

And  there  was  a  terrible  famine,  you  know. 

The  horses  and  cattle  had  nothing  to  eat, 

And  so  they  were  famished,  and  dropt  in  the  street, 

And  all  the  people  were  dying  in  crowds, 

But  still  not  a  drop  of  rain  came  from  the  clouds  5 

For  they  were  not  sorry,  and  did  not  repent) 

Although  they  had  this  punishment  sent. 

My  mother  explained  the  story  to  me, 

The  whole  is  not  written  in  one  place  ycu  see." 

"  Well,  darling,  and  what  did  the  good  prophet  do  ?^ 
"  Ah]  that  is  the  part  1  Una  now  coming  to; 
There  was  in  the  country  a  beautiful  place, 
Away  from  that  naughty  idolatrous  race; 
And  there  was  a  spring  g(  clear  water  that  ran 
In  a  deep  little  brook,  for  the  use  of  the  man ; 
And  God  hid  him  up  there,  &xn\  tojd  hini  to  'bide, 
And  drink  of  the  w&ter  that  lie  had  supplied.'' 

«  But  what  did  he -eat,  child  ?     How  did  thai  befal  V 
(t  Oh  !  just  stop  a  moment,  and  I'll  tell  you  all, — 
God  made  him  a  promise,  that  every  day 
He'd  send  him  some  food  in  a  very  strange  way — 
Mother  sfiyc,  "'tis  net  strange,  for  the  mighty  God  cau 
Make  use  of  a  bird,  just  as  well  as  a  man ; 
And  so  he  commanded  some  ravens  to  fcrfng, 
Gi<?od  food  to  the  prophet,  who  lived  by  the  spring. 
They  came  vz  the  morning,  as  soon  as  'twas  light, 
A&d  tlieii  came  again  with  hie  supper  at  nig'fet.; 
They  always  knew  wThere  to  find  nice  bread  and  meat. 
And  go  the  good  prophet  had  plenty  to  eat: 
Thev  never  forgot,  or  came  lagging  behind, 
because  it  was  always  Jcept  Irest  in  their  nitsd ; 
The  prophet  had  only  to  wait  and  beiie^ve. 
As  mother  says,  only  to  ask  and  receive, 
Because  the  Lord's  promise  will  always  endure, 
That  br^adshaji  be  given,  and  water  be  sure.'* 

■ce  Well,  darling, — and  did  the  stream  always  ru©  fast,, 
Or  did  the  good  prophet's  brook  dry  -tp  at  last?" 
*  Xt  dried  un  at  UsWbut  .then,  God  spoke  a.nd.saj<L 


18  OUR    FAtllER'S    CARE. 

I've  commanded  a  widow  to  feed  thee  with  bread. 

He  told  him  the  city  the  widow  lived  at — 

I  think  'twas  Sarepta,  or  something  like  that. 

And  so  he  set  off  on  his  journey  once  more, 

He  never  had  seen  the  poor  widow  before— 

I  don't  think  it  says,  if  'twas  early  or  late, 

But  there  she  was",  waiting  just  close  by  the  gate. 

He  said  to  her,  — '  Bring  me  some  water,  I  pray,' — 

(No  doubt  he  was  thirsty  with  walking  all  day : ) 

And  as  she  was  going  so  ready  and  kind, 

To  bring  him  a  cup  of  the  best  she  could  find, 

He  asked  her  to  bring  him  some  bread  in  her  band, 

But  that  brought  the  poor  widow  quite  to  a  stand . 

She  said,   *  As  thy  soul  lives,  I  have  not  a  cake  ' — 

And  then  such  a  sorrowful  tale  she  did  make  ; 

She  had  but  a  handful  of  meal  then  to  use, 

And  just  the  last  drop  of  her  oil  in  a  cruse. 

1  I've  come  out  to  gather  a  few  sticks,'  said  she, 

1  To  cook  the  last  meal  for  my  poor  son  and  me ' — 

And  that  was  the  end  of  her  little  supply, 

And  she  and  her  son  both  expected  to  die, 

'Fear  not,'  said  the  prophet,    *but  do  as  you  said,* 

(And  that  was,  to  make  the  meal  up  into  bread,) 

For  thus  saith  the  word  of  the  Lord  unto  you", 

(The  word  of  the  Lord,  father,  always  is  true,) 

•  The  meal  in  the  barrel  shall  never  get  less, 

Till  there  is  an  end  of  the  present  distress.'" 

"  How  could  that  be,  darling  "     "  Oh  !  that  1  don't  know, 

But  the  meal  did  not'  waste  in  the  parrel,  you  know ; 

There  still  was  a  handful  whenever  they  went; 

The  oil  in  the  bottle  that  never  was  spent. 

They  eat  every  day  for  the  whole  of  a  year, 

And  -whilst  others  starved,  they  had  nothing  to  fear,. 

They  never  sat  down  to  a  poor  empty  board,  . 

And  that  came,  you  see,  from  believing  the  Lord." 

44  Ah  !  Nelly,  but  that  was  a  long  time  ago, 

We  don't  have  such  prophets  in  these  days,  you  know.'* 

Then  Nelly  sat  still,  she  had  much  on  her  mind,. 
$ut  werds  to  express  it  weren't  easy  to  find 


tiie   father's    charge.  19 

"  If  I  could  be  sure,  you  woulcHiavc  a  supply, 

'Twould  not  be  so  hard  for  me,  darling,   to  die. 

What  -will  you  do,  child,,  when  the  bell  has  been  tolled, 

And  they've  put  your  poor  father  under  the  mould?" 

Then  Nelly  looked  up,' — "  We  have  not  wanted  yet, 

And  got  on  the  best  in  the  wind  and  the  wet."' 

44  Yes,   yes,   child — but  then  there's  a  long  time  to  come, 

How  will  your  poor  mother  make  out  for  a  home?" 

"  I  dare  say  we'll  do,  as  we  have  done  before, 

Mother  says  there's  no  cii<l  <>f  the  heavenly  store. 

She  bid  me* to  tell  you  some  words  that  God  said, 

I  don't  think  I've  got  them  exact  Tn  my  head, 

It  was  a  sweet  promise  sent  down  from  the  sky, 

On  purpose  to  comfort  you  if  you  should  die." 

"What  is  it,  my  darling?     T  wish  T  could  find 
Myself  more  contented  to  leave  you  behind." 

"Thy  fatherless  children— yes,  that  is  the  word — - 

I  will  certainly  keep  them  alive,  saith  the  Lord  ; 

And  then,  says  the  promise  as  plain  as  can  bo, 

And  let  thy  poor  -widow  depend  upon  me — 

And  so  you  may  leave  us  contentedly  here, 

If  God  will  preserve  us,  we're  nothing  to  fear."  . 

i(  That's  beautiful,  Nelly  !  1  soon  shall  be  gone, 
You'll  need  such  a  Friend  in  this  hard  world  alone.'" 

41  We'll  not  be  alone,  father  -Jesus  did  sa}r, 

I  never  will  leave  you,  I'm  with  yon  arway; 

And,  dear  mother  says,  though  the  heavens  may  shake,, 

He'll  never  forsake  ua,  He'll-  never  forsake." 

"  That's  beautiful,  Nelly !  "'tis  balm  to  my  mind,. 
And  now  I'm  contented  to  leave  you  behind, 
My  last  chain  is  broken,  and  taken  away, 
And  I  have  no  wish  any  longer  to  stay — 
Tell  mother,  Pin  willing  to  leave  her  alone, 
'Bnt  don't  let  her  grieve,  Nelly,  when  I  am  gone  ; 
Twould  kill  her  to  go  to  the  workhouse,   I  know , 
Ok!  Nelly,  my  darling,  yow'll  not  lefe  her  go  I 


20  OUR   FATHERS    CARE. 

But  do  your  best  for  her,  and  work  for  the  bread, 
And  may  the  Lord  keep  every  hair  of  your  head." 

Tie  looked  at  her  fondly,  and  then  closed  his  eyes, 
"Now  tell  me  the  poor  sinner's  way  to  the  skies; 
I've  learned  it,  my  darling — but  still  I  would  die 
While  seeing  the  poor  sinner's  way  to  the  sky, 
And  hearing  about  the  white  robe,  and  the  feast, 
The  city  of  gold,  and  the  mansions  of  rest; 
So  tell  me  of  all  the  sweet  words  that  you  know, 
I'm  longing  to  hear  them,  I'm  listening  now.** 

Then  Nelly  Bat  still,  and  bethought  her  again,        4 

Of  what  her  good  mother  had  taught  her  so  plain, 

And  kissing  his  ashy  cold  cheek  as  he  lay,* 

She  went  on  again  in  her  own  simple  way ; 

Nor  deemed  that  her  dear  father's  laboring  breath, 

Would  soon  have  a  close  in  the  silence  of  death. 

"  Tis  easy  for  sinners  to  come  to  the  Lord, 
They've  but  to  repent  and  believe  in  ll\a  word, 
And  God,  fo§^fee  sake  of  His  well-beloved  Son, 
Will  pardon  them  all  the  bad  things  they  have  done. 
And  give  them  His  Spirit,  that  so  they  may  grow 
Just  like  Jesus  Christ,  when  He  lived  here  |>elow ; 
And  they  are  so  happy  when  they  are  forgiven, 
For  they  are  the  sons  of  our  Father  in  heaven.'* 

Then  Nelly  tried  hard  to  remember  a  text, 

And  wondered  what  words  she  had  better  say  next ; 

Her  father  looked  at  her  as  if  he  would  say, 

"  Go  on,  Nelly  dear,  I  shall  leave  you  to-day." 

•"Yes,  father,  I  will,"  and  she  held  his  Laud  faab« 

Tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  but  her  words  came  at  last 

Ci  I  know  that  some  beautiful  clothing  is  wrought, 
A  beautiful  dress  for  poor  sinners  is  bought, 
And  when  they  have  nothing  at  all  of  their  own, 
They  come  to  the  Saviour,  and  He  puts  it  on ; 
*Tis  white  as  the  snow,  and  as  bright  as  the  day, 
Sot  even  the  angels  are  fairer  than  thev; 


2TELL7,    A    COMFORTER.  2tf 

In  this  they  may  stand  by  the  heaven fy  throne, 
8b  welcome  to  God  through  the  well-beloved  Son. 
In  this  they  are  called  to  a  heavenly  feast, 
Prepared  for  all  people,  the  greatest  and  least; 
For  kings  tbat  like  I)av;-d  s\i  wp  ot\  a  throne, 
And  beggars  who  cry  on  a  dunghill  alone  ; 
But  none  may  c^n-vc  mr  not  fche  king  on  the  throne, 
Except  that  fine  garment  be  over  him  thrown  ; 
And  poor  humble  people  are  glad  of  this  dress, 
3  think  mother  ealled  &  *  Christ's  righteousness.'  " 

The  child  paused  a  B&omcnt — he  motioned  again  ; 

He  spoke  not  a  word,  for  he  could  not  speak  then  ; 

A  trembling  Took  on  her  father  she  cast, 

Tears  stood  m  he?  eyes,  but  her  words  followed  Asfc, 

"  I  know  that  poor  sinners  are  welcome  to  God, 

"Whose  .souls  are  made  pure  by  the  dear  Saviour's  blood  ; 

I  know  fchey  -will  come  to  the  heaTenly  restr 

And  lay  their  tired  heads  on  the  dear  Saviour's  breast* 

I  know  they  will  never  be  hungry  again, 

Nor  cry  with  their  trouble,  nor  suffer  with  pain." 

His  eye3  looked  again — "Oh I  I  know  they  will'  stand 
With  the  sheep  of  the  fold,  on   the  Saviour's  right  hand  ; 
Ue'll  wipe  all  the  tear-drops  away  from  their  eyes, 
And  poor  sinners  will  not  shed  tears  in  the  skies ; 
they'll  walk  in  the  streets  with  the  paYement  of  gold',. 
Or  rest  in  the  shade  with  the  kn»D3  of  the  fold ; 
And  that  not  fo-r  any  thiag  good  they  have  done, 
]But  all  for  the  sake  of  the  well-beloved  Soa. 
No  candle  burns  there,  in  that  happy  abode, 
The  city  is  bright  with  the  g^Iory  of  God ; 
And  musie  is  sounding  there*  all  the  day  long, 
Our  own  Little  baby  could  join  in  t£e  soug. 
•And  you  will  sing  there  with  poor  mother  and  me; 
Oh  !  father,  how  happy  and  joyful  we'll  be  ! 
For  ever  and  ever  our  songs  we  shall  raise, 
And  never  be-  tired  &£  '  glory  aad  praise  ;' . 
And  that  not  for  any  thing  good  we  have  done, 
Bat  all  for  the  sake  of  tb.e  well-beloved  Soj 


Z'Z  0dTR     FATHER  J     CA1W 

She  ceased,  and  her  dear  father  opened  bra  eye«-r- 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  poor  sinner's  way  to  rlio  skies; 
I'm  going  there,  Nellys  the  sins  I  have  done, 
Are  all  put  away  through  the   weM-beieored  Son  ; 
That  beautiful  raiment  is  over  me  throws, 
And  I  shall  stand  there  by  the  heavenly  throne; 
My  Saviour  is  coming,  I'm  catching  the  sound 
Of  .sweet  angel  music,  all  floating  around. 

I'm  going  there  1.1  ■■ 

There  was  light  on  his  brow., 

Then  up  to  the  skies 
■    He  lifted  his  eyes, 

With  a  bright  sweet  smile 

(  hi  his  face  the  while  ; 
^    One  struggling  breath, 

And  the  hand  of  death 

Had  broken  the  chain 

Of  his  grief  and  nam.. 

And  the  soul  had  tied 

From  the  silent  dead, 

And  free  as  the  lark 

And  above  the  dark, 

And  above  the  cloud, 

And  the  toiling  crowd./ 

Had  entered  the  rest 

Of  the  good  and  blest.: 

But   the   hand   that  was  grasped 

And  so  fondly  clasped, 

jSfow  lifeless  and  cold, 

Had  relaxed  its  hold, 

And  the  orphan  child 

Was  left  in  the  arild. 


Oh  !  there  was  a  soutd  of  weepitg, 

Tn  that  lonely  home, 
And  the  shade  of  terror  ereepiug, 

•O'er /he  days  to  coaie. 


SORBGW    aXD    WEEPfNG.  g3 

He  was  gone— no  farewell  taken,. 
Gone,  without  caress ; 

•And  the  mother  was  forsaken, 
In  her  sore  distress, 

All  around  looked'  dark  and  dreary 

Troubled,  full  of  care, 
And  her  spirit  was  so  weary, 

Nigli^uiuo  despair. 

Weeping,  weeping,  sad  and  lonely,    ' 

On  her  bed  she  lav ; 
For  some  transient  hours  only, 

Nature  had  its  way. 

"Mother  must  ndi  grieve,"  thought  Nelly, 

"  Now  we  are  alone; 
-I  must  try  and  be  her  comfort, 

Now  dear  father's  gone." 

Then  Bae  went  and  stood  beside  her, 

In  her  loving  way  ; 
And  her  simple  heart  soon  found  her 

Just  the  words  to  say. 


"When  father  heard  (he  promise, 

The  pretty  toxt  you  sent; 
Be  said  it  made  him  happy. 
And  he  could  die  content.'' 

"What  was  the  promise,  Nelly? 

I  want  to  hear  it  now, — 
But  did  there  shine  a  glory, 

Upon  your  father's  brow  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes,  dear  mother,  n^ver, 
Did  I  fee  such  a  sight  •, 


£4  tfOH  IXTEER?S   CMMSk 

His  face  was  beaming  over, 
All  with  a  eauiBag  ligkt. 

<(  And  such  a  s;ni£e  he  gave  nie, 

As  I  did  never  see ; 
He  must  have  --seen  tie  angels, 

As  plain  as  he  saw  me, 

* '  He  looked  beyond  the  ceiling, 

High  up,  and  far  away  ;  *    * 

He  said,  fee  saw  fcis  Saviour, 

And  heard  the  music  play. 

Ki  If  you  had  seen  him  smiling, 

I'm  sure  you  would  not  cry$  \ 

He  looked  so  happy,  mother, 

He  did  not  seem  to  die.    * 

u  And  there  was  such  a  stillness, 

So  peaceful  round  the  bed ; 
I  almost  thought  the  angels 

Were  hovering  round  my  head* 

<(  I  laid  my  cheek  to  father's,  •  ' 

His  cheek  was  cold  as  clay ; 
.    And  then,  I  kissed  and  kissed  liiiss., 
And  then  I  came  away. 

• 

*'  And  running  home,  so  lonely, 

I  always  seemed  to  hum, 
The  words  that  made  him  happy, 
Keep  sounding  in  my  ear* 

*'  For  now  I  am  a«  orphan, 

And  you're  a  widow  too ; 
And  don't  you  think  its  certain, 

We'll  find  that  promise  true  ?  " 

.*'  Yes,  Nelly — yes,  my  blessing, 

And  we  uyisfc  trust  it  now  ; 
And  trust  that  God  will  help  us,  * 

Although  we  see  not  how. 


